Okay so last week I realized Christmas was creeping up again, and I just felt kinda… stuck about what to get my Dad. You know how it is. Stuff? He doesn’t really need anything. Another tie? Nah. Then it hit me – maybe words mean more sometimes, especially for dads who ain’t always big on talking feelings. So I decided, screw physical gifts this year, I’m writing him a real message.
First thing, I grabbed my notebook and pen, sat down at the kitchen table – coffee in hand, obviously. Total silence except for the fridge humming. Blank page staring back at me. This was harder than I thought. How do you even start? “Hey Dad…” Felt too casual. “Dear Father…” Too stiff, like a business letter. Started doodling instead. Not helpful.
Brain fog was real. So I did what I do best – procrastinated productively! Jumped online just for ideas. Stumbled across those stupid generic Hallmark phrases and nearly gave up. Then I saw something about being specific. Lightbulb moment. Duh! This ain’t about fancy words, it’s about our stuff. That time he spent three whole Saturday afternoons trying to teach me how to parallel park? How he always makes the world’s most disgusting scrambled eggs but insists they’re gourmet? That time he drove four hours through a snowstorm just ’cause I had the flu? Those little things are the good stuff.
My 5 Ways Messy Process
Okay, down to business. Decided to try writing five different snippets hitting different angles. Not a big essay, just chunks.
- Way 1: Stuck in the Past. Tried writing about childhood memories first. Wrote about him fixing my bike chain constantly. Felt warm, but also kinda sad? Like he was just a mechanic then. Scrapped it. Went deeper. Remembered him sitting patiently reading me the same dumb dinosaur book 15 nights in a row. That’s the one. Jotted: “Thanks for letting me be a little kid obsessed with dinosaurs longer than I probably should have been.” Feels real.
- Way 2: Thanking the Grind. Dad’s always working. Hard. Never really bitches about it. So I tried to directly say thanks for that. Sounded cheesy: “Your work ethic inspires me.” Bleh. Too fake. Rewrote it later when I remembered how tired he looked last Thanksgiving, but still insisted on carving the turkey. Went for: “Thanks for doing all the stuff you do that just… lets us be.” Simpler. Truer.
- Way 3: Admiring Hidden Stuff. Thought about things I actually admire about him now, as an adult. Not the job stuff, but how he quietly helps neighbours shovel snow, or still holds doors for people. Didn’t tell him I notice this stuff. Wrote: “Been noticing you’re still the guy getting stuff done for others without the fanfare. Respect that.” Felt a bit awkward writing it, but that means it’s probably important to say.
- Way 4: Plain Ol’ Love Bomb. This felt TOO simple. Like, just gotta say “Love you, Dad“. But then I stared at it. Why is it so hard to just write that sometimes? Especially when it wasn’t said much growing up. So I decided to just own it. Wrote it big and bold. No fancy wrapping. Just the core message.
- Way 5: Looking Ahead. Finished by looking forward to something simple next year. Almost wrote “To making more memories” – gag. Too generic. Remembered he loves grilling burgers when the weather’s good. Scribbled: “Looking forward to burning burgers with you next summer.” He’ll get the joke. And the promise.
Had five rough snippets now. Looked like a total mess. Sentences half-crossed out, doodles in the margins. My handwriting is garbage. But it felt honest. Spent like another hour moving bits around, shortening stuff. Didn’t force them all together; made sure each little piece stood on its own but flowed.
The Actual Writing Part Sucked
Decided against typing. Too formal. Grabbed a real card – blank inside, nice thick paper. Wanted it to feel like me. Grabbed my favourite pen. Took a deep breath. Copied the five snippets over, one by one. Messed up the spacing between the second and third one – looked uneven. Almost panicked. Then thought, “He’s your DAD. He doesn’t care about perfect spacing.” Kept going. Signed it just “Love, [Your Name]“. Simple.
Slipped it into an envelope. Stamped it. Sat there holding it for a second. Felt weirdly nervous, like handing in a final exam you weren’t sure about. Put it in the mailbox yesterday. Feels… vulnerable? But good. Better than another tie gathering dust. We’ll see if he says anything, but honestly, just putting it out there felt like the point.